


Little Gifts

by The_lazy_eye



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Anne in Suspenders, Anne in Trousers, F/M, Grinding, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unchaperoned Shenanigans, love and affection, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24798718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: She is a sight to behold, one that Gilbert will cherish and return to for many nights after this.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 31
Kudos: 189
Collections: Shirbert smut





	Little Gifts

“I’ve a gift for you,” Gilbert says, sliding a touch closer to her than he should be allowed to be. The others in the parlor don’t seem to mind so much, too busy wrapped in their own conversations. He’s thankful for it as he slides the thin, square box into her hands. 

Anne takes it eagerly, running her fingers over the delicate bow through which he slipped a sprig of lavender. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, trust me,” He hums, watching her with rapt attention as she slowly slides the lid off and removes the tissue paper. “The pleasure is mine.”

He watches as her face lights up in surprise, then confusion. “I don’t understand? Are these... are these suspenders?”

“Indeed, they are, my love.” He takes her hand in his, the one not holding the small package, and kisses it. “You’re a forward-thinking woman, way ahead of our time. I know how much you admired Miss Stacy’s bold fashion styles back in Avonlea.” 

“Gilbert, are you endorsing my deviation from the status quo?” She gasps, voice thick with faux offense. There’s a glint in her eyes, one that tells him she is on board. 

Not that he ever worried about that. 

“There’s only one little problem with your plan, Mr. Blythe,” Anne continues, learning in close to whisper in his ears. “I don’t own a pair of trousers.”

Gilbert pulls back, slowly so he has time to commit the scent of her lavender shampoo to memory. “Well, I believe I may have a solution to this little problem.” 

Anne only raises her eyebrows in suspicion, exchanging a look with Gilbert that is both deadly silent and impossibly loud. 

And it’s that single look that leads them all the way back to Avonlea so many months later, after exams are done and courses have wrapped up for the fall term. 

It leads them with secret smiles and hushed whispers passed between chaperoned sweethearts until they’ve found the perfect moment to slip away, up the stairs of the Blythe-LaCroix home. 

Blissfully, _scandalously_ alone.

“I cannot believe you pulled this off!” Anne laughs, trailing only just behind Gilbert as they race towards the bedrooms situated at the top of the stairs. He beats her by two feet, turning around to taunt only to find her still barreling full speed ahead. They crash together like hungry waves meeting a parched shore, unceremoniously collapsing to the ground. 

They knock into his dresser, sending books and papers scattering across the floor but they don’t care. Why should they? No one is around to yell at them about the mess. No one is there to scold them for being so loud and clumsy. 

“You menace!” He laughs, getting his arms between them and shoving so she topples from where she’s perched on his chest. She shrieks and grabs his arm, pulling him with her. 

They continue to grapple for power. Anne uses her knowledge of his most ticklish spots to win a victory and press his face into the floor. Gilbert uses his strength to push up and flip their positions. 

It goes on until they’re breathless, twin forces unable to beat the other; reckless competition fueled by love and passion. It ends with them both gasping for breath between endless streams of giggles, side by side on the floor. Neither of them wins, not officially, which is fine because that means they'll get a rematch sometime in the future.

“Okay, okay,” Gilbert huffs, hands up in mock surrender even though neither of them have moved for several minutes, “I didn’t bring you up here to beat you at wrestling.”

“Hey!”

“We’re here for a _reason_.”

He hoists himself up, taking a moment to witness Anne stretched out on the floor, braids loose and messy beneath her. She steals the air from his lungs and he has to turn away in order to breathe again. 

It takes a moment of rifling through the bottom drawers of his dresser before he finds what he’s looking for: a few old pairs of trousers that he’s long since grown out of but keeps forgetting to repurpose. If it was any other time, he’d chastise himself for being so forgetful but right now he cannot be happier to have these old clothes taking up space. They should be the perfect size for Anne. 

As an afterthought, he grabs a few old shirts. 

“Here,” He says, turning around and presenting Anne the clothes. She’s since pulled herself off the floor and is now sitting on the corner of his bed, watching him. There’s a honeysuckle smile on her lips and a spark of excitement in her eyes as she accepts them from him.

He waits for her to say something fanciful about adventure and disguises, but she doesn’t. She simply says a quick, “Thank you,” before slipping behind the folding screen he moved from downstairs. 

The room falls silent save for the sound of rustling fabric and a few noises of frustration from Anne. Gilbert picks at the skin around his fingernails, knowing Anne will scold him for it later. He can’t help it – there’s an anxious bubble sitting in the bottom of his stomach that he needs to distract himself from. It’s weird, though, because it’s not the bad kind of anxiety that might come from exams or having a difficult conversation. No, this feels anxious in a good way and he finds himself eager for her to step out from behind the screen. 

“I swear, Gilbert,” She groans, “Being a woman is wonderful but why must we wear so many _layers._ And this darned corset. If there’s one thing I could do without, it’s _this_.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you on that front, my love.” There’s no way she can see his cheeky smile, but he dawns it anyway. 

“Don’t be a cad,” She admonishes, but he knows she’s only teasing. He can hear the mirth in her voice. 

The low winter sun hangs in the room, causing her shadow to dance against the divider. Gilbert knows he shouldn’t watch the way the outline of her shoulders goes from puffy to smooth as she sheds her clothing. He shouldn’t imagine the smooth slope of her skin, bare as the day she was born as she trades her clothes for his. 

He shouldn’t, but he does. At least he has the decency to be a little ashamed of his impure thoughts. But oh, what he wouldn’t give to see her as she is now, to hold her as just herself and more or less. 

Finally, after what feels like ages, she pokes her head out. The smile that graces her face is small but powerful, one that screams confidence without having to draw fanfare. “Are you ready?”

Gilbert nods, never having been readier for anything in his entire life. His heartrate kicks up a notch, skin going hot and cold at the same time as she slowly steps out. 

The pants she wears are tight around her thighs and hips, drawing looser as they approach her knees. Her curves sit snug in the fabric and he curses himself for not realizing how different their bodies are. Of course it would be tighter, they have entirely different builds!

“Is it too tight? We can try another pair,” He starts but she shakes her head. 

“No, not too bad. Yes, it’s snug but nothing I can’t get used to.”

With her comfort sorted, he leans back on the bed to fully take in the sight of her. The shirt she wears – _his shirt,_ he notes with exhilaration – is loose, but the way she tucked it into the top of the trousers highlights the cinch of her waist. The suspenders… oh the _suspenders_. They snap tight against her shoulders, pinching the fabric and only serving to emphasize her… _womanly_ features. 

His eyes quickly dart away, praying to God that the blush on his face doesn’t give him away. If she sees his indiscretion, she politely ignores it. Anne is simply standing there with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed onto him, waiting for him to give his opinion. 

Too bad for her, though, because he likes to make her wait. He takes another second to appreciate the suspenders before he appraises the rest of her outfit, eyes shamelessly scanning down her figure. 

And then it dawns on him: tight trousers may not be such a bad thing. No, not at all. 

“Anne.” His voice sounds unfamiliar to him, rough around the edges and all too heavy to be proper. “You look…”

“Yes?” Her eyes follow him as he stands and suddenly there’s hardly any room to breathe between the two of them. His hands grab hold of her suspenders and pull her toward him, causing her to stumble and catch herself on his chest. She has to crane her neck to look up at him and the sight of her so small and lithe in front of him is enough for his thin grasp on control to break. 

He descends upon her like a starved wolf, lips claiming hers in a passionate kiss. It is not chaste or slow to build like some of their others have been. No, this is deep and wild from the start. Anne meets him in his frenzy, all too happy to have the life kissed out of her. 

Anne presses up and wraps her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his curls, yanking on the strands and sending ripples of wants down into his stomach. One of his hands still grips her suspenders, the other taking hold of her waist so that his fingers slip through her belt loops. The combination keeps her pressed close to him and when he steps back, she follows. 

His goal was to lead them to the bed. Really, it should have been no problem, two or three steps and they would have been there. Except, Gilbert forgot about the papers and books they’d knocked over and one wrong step sent them both collapsing back to the ground. 

Anne takes the fall in stride, using both Gilbert’s shock and her newfound agility sans skirts to twist them around until she’s straddling his hips. Her laugh is radiant as she throws her head back. “A warrior must never let his guard down, Sir Blythe, for it will certainly be his downfall.”

If she’s aware of her double entendre, she doesn’t show it. She looks so smug on top of him, so proud of herself for beating him in a battle he’d forgotten about. That _siren_ , seducing him and then leading him to his expiration. What a way to go. 

He waits for her to get up, but she doesn’t budge. In another series of events, he’d be happy to let her sit there but their previous make out session combined with her new outfit in _such_ a compromising position has rendered him completely and utterly titillated. 

He has to move her. It’s only a matter of time before she – 

Anne shifts her hips and he feels the unmistakable pressure of her backside pressing against him, soft yet firm. It punches a moan out of him, one he futilely tries to swallow back. Of course she hears him, eyes widening substantially as she realizes what exactly caused that sound and what exactly it meant. 

“I’m so sorry,” He quickly apologizes, desperate to remedy the situation before it implodes. “I don’t mean to be so crude. It was never my intention to sully you.”

At first, she doesn’t answer. He can read neither her face nor her eyes as they sit in silence. Mortification creeps into Gilbert’s soul. There will be no recovering from this, that he is sure of. Any moment now, she will stand and excuse herself from his life. All because he couldn’t keep his body under control.

Then, something dangerous flashes in her eyes and before he knows what’s happening, she grinds down against him. His eyes involuntarily roll into the back of his head and when a moan sounds out in the room, he can’t tell whether it belongs to him or to her. 

She gasps, his name dripping off the tip of her tongue like honey. Dizzy with a new kind of pleasure, he wants to sit up and kiss her, drink that sweet nectar from her lips until his thirst is quenched and sated. It is a fruitless battle, for he will never be satisfied when it comes to her

She grinds again, obviously pleased with his reaction and his hands fly out to her hips, fingers digging into her supple flesh to meet her in her movements. It’s addictive, the feeling of her against him. 

Somewhere through his haze, Gilbert manages to get his hands off of Anne’s hips and back on the reigns. This situation is getting wildly out of hand. She’s looking down at him with those curious, wide eyes and he can see it: the nervous energy that’s flitting around those grey irises. It dawns on him what they’re doing, where they are, how they’re completely alone in his house. 

In his bedroom, nonetheless.

“Anne,” He breathes. “Anne, wait.”

“What?” 

“This isn’t what we came up here to do,” He says 

“And what is it that we’re doing?” She asks. Her voice sounds so innocent and it makes him want to launch himself off the cliffside. This isn’t right, what he’s doing to her. She is sitting on his lap, unknowingly stoking the fires deep within his belly and he’s letting her. He wants to be ashamed – he _is ashamed_ – but then there’s a smirk playing on her lips and he knows that she’s not as innocent as he believes her to be. 

She shifts her hips _again_ and it sends shockwaves rippling up and down his spine. Her hands are planted firmly on his chest, positioning her as a looming goddess through which his prayers are sent to and answered. It takes every ounce of strength not to meet her hips with his. 

“Marilla will have our heads,” He manages. His teeth are ground tightly together, hands now resting at his side and balled into fists. 

“What Marilla doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, we’re both adults. If it wasn’t for school, we’d have been married that first summer, autumn at the absolute latest. By this point, we’d have engaged in far more scandalous behavior.”

He is a fool for ever having believed her innocent in the first place. She has always been mischievous and wild, it should surprise no one that she understands the way the world works and seeks to use it to her advantage. She wouldn’t be Anne Shirley-Cuthbert if she didn’t thoroughly try to disrupt the world of its status quo. 

She leans further down, hands pressing into his ribs in an almost uncomfortable way but he lets her, relishing in the burning that sinks straight into his bones. “I should tell you, Mr. Blythe,” Her voice is quiet now, as if she is whispering a sacred secret. He cranes his neck up to meet her until he feels the warm press of her lips against the shell of his ear. The touch sends shivers down his spine, her words light him ablaze. “I have a new friend on campus, Phil Gordon. She’s quite progressive and she has a dearth of knowledge in various areas of study.”

He waits for her to continue, anticipation edging into every nerve in his body. “She told me that the greatest liberation a woman can feel is when she liberates her body from society’s expectations.”

She pulls back a little and he mirrors the movement, letting his head thunk against the hardwood floor. “And do you believe her?”

“You tell me,” She says, rolling her hips intentionally over his. He can’t help the shudder that wracks his body or the groan that falls from his lips. He watches her through hooded eyes, a starlit beauty about him getting ready to end his breathing days. There will be no surviving this attack on his senses, no coming back from the feeling of her.

When she sets a steady rhythm, his resolve crumbles into finely ground powder. He cannot deny that he wants this, wants _her_ , and to know she wants him in equal measure? It is enough to fell an entire army. 

By now his own trousers feel impossibly tight and he’s desperate for relief in any way he can find it. Lucky for him, Anne is more than willing to provide. 

His hands come back up and grip her thighs. For the thousandth time, he finds himself head over heels. If she were wearing those copious layers of skirts, he would not be able to feel the warmth of her through the clothing. He would not be able to feel the shifting muscles of her thighs as she experimented upon him. 

Suddenly, she grinds down harder and lets out the most debauched noise he’s ever heard. With his resolve gone and his deepest fantasies being made flesh, something inside him _snaps_. 

He grips her firmly, turning them both until she loses her balance so he can flip their positions. 

Anne’s eyes had previously been shut, a crease of concentration in her brow, so when he flips her over she understandably goes from making quiet, breathy little moans to full on yelping in surprise. As he settles on top of her, one hand still holding her by the meat of her thigh and the other propping himself up, she lands a pretty good whack on his bicep. 

“Hey, I was in the middle of something.”

“Don’t worry, Carrots, I’m not interrupting,” He chuckles. She’s laying under him, red hair spread out like a halo against the dark wood. Her face is completely flushed and he watches as her chest rises and falls in an attempt to steady her breathing. He could watch her in her breathless daze for hours. 

There is not a single version of his wonderful beau that he’s not enamored with, but this one takes the cake. She is shameless and undone beneath him and he belongs entirely to her. He adjusts her until he settles between her thighs, spread so deliciously wide as to accommodate him. She gladly permits it, wrapping herself around his waist and keeping him close. This new position allows for him to feel every part of her body where they’re pressed together. He’s dizzied with the contact, absolutely drunk off of her touch. 

Even though there are still layers between them, when he gently thrusts forward he can feel the heat of her against him, it drives him wild with ardor.

It’s his turn to tease. “Can you feel me?” He groans, almost losing himself in her answering moan. He thrusts against, slow and deliberate. “Right there, where our hips are together.”

She nods and he peppers kisses to the side of her neck that alternates between closed and open mouthed. “That’s me against you, making you sound so beautiful, making you feel so heavenly.”

“And what of you?” She gasps, keening when his teeth sink into her pulse point. “What do you gain from this?”

“With you pressed against me there, all of my wildest dreams come true,” He growls, picking up his pace. 

Anne meets him in his movements, hips rocking down to match the pace he’s set. The feeling of them working together, meeting each other in a passionate frenzy, is enough to render him useless. He can’t kiss her, he can’t touch her, he can hardly keep his own eyes open. Instinct takes over as they continue to rock against each other, pace and force increasing by the minute. All that he knows is the pleasure coursing through his body, the salacious sound of her moans filling the empty space in his room. 

Lord, he’s never going to be able to step foot inside here again without remembering every detail of this encounter. This will ruin him in the best possible ways. 

“Is this the liberation you seek, Anne?” He pants, head tucked in the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her hands are fisted in the material of his shirt. It will be wrinkled beyond repair when they’re done and anyone who happens upon them may know why, but he doesn’t care. He _can’t_ care. 

Instead of answering her question, she says, “It’s hot in here.” He’s inclined to agree with her, little pools of sweat gathering on forehead and lower back. 

Without thinking, he stops and sits up to undo the buttons of his shirt. Anne follows suit, nimble fingers making quick work of her own garment before she’s propped up on her elbows and shrugging it off. It almost feels like a race: who can get undressed the fastest. His undershirt comes off next and then they’re left staring at each other, drinking the other in for what they have revealed. Gilbert is left bare, his chest on full display for her to see. Anne is still covered by her chemise, but he can see where it’s become sheer from her own sweat. 

As much as he wants to see her equally bare before him, never would he dare to pressure her outside of her comfort zone. This sight is still overwhelming and Gilbert finds himself flooded with equal parts love and heat. Anne watches intently as he lowers himself back down, the previous frantic energy of the room disrupted. He kisses her neck again, tender and loving as his hands smooth over the fabric on her stomach. 

“So beautiful,” He murmurs, “So exquisite. And all mine. How have I gotten so lucky? What God has graced me with a lover so divine as you?”

Anne’s hand joins his where it’s resting and guides it slowly down towards the edge of her chemise. She curls her fingers, and as a result his, over the ridge and lifts. “Take it off me, Gilbert.”

He must black out then, because the next thing he knows he is sitting up again and staring down at her, chemise thrown clear to the other side of the room. He is completely enraptured by her. He always knew that her freckles extended down past her neck, but have that confirmed as all but short circuited his brain. He wants to lean down and press kisses to each one individually. He wants the color of them to stain his lips forever so that the world might know who he belongs to. 

He is hers until the end of time. 

Slowly, she reaches up to touch him, to trail her fingers lightly against the skin of his chest and stomach. Every skim of her fingers, every little touch she inflicts upon him sends him further and further away from the living world. He remains still, kneeling above her as she conducts her exploration. When she grazes his nipple, it sends little shockwaves of pleasure through his whole body. When she drifts south, every muscle in his abdomen tightens with suspense. 

Her hand ghosts over the belt of his trousers and then lower, settling on the obvious tent where his erection is. He groans and doubles over at the feeling of friction where he desperately wants it. 

“So, this is you,” She says, putting more pressure on him. He nods, unable to say anything. He can feel his face twisting with pleasure, uncontainable and raw before her. She stops and he _whines_ at the lack of contact, but not for long because then she’s sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. “I want to feel you again.”

He yields, willing to give her whatever she desires.

Her hands undo his belt and zipper, allowing Gilbert to shimmy his trousers down past his hips. He’s straining against his underwear, hardly covered and barer for her than he’s been for anyone before. He presses back down, blanketing her body with his own and wrapping her legs back around him. Part of him wants to undo her belt and have her match him in his state of undress, but another part of him continues to relish in the sight of her unlike how anyone has ever seen her before. No shirt, no chemise, trousers hiked high on her waist and suspenders loose off her shoulders. She is a sight to behold, one that Gilbert will cherish and return to for many nights after this. 

“Please,” She whimpers. There is not a single thing he would deny her in this world, and so he obliges. 

His hips meet hers again, this time not waiting to build speed or force. They crash together like thunder in the sky, rolling waves of rain and electricity, heat and humidity. They’re sticky and beautiful, a maelstrom and laced with tranquility.

They both do and don’t know what they’re doing. Anne has her own knowledge, her own pieces of information about pleasure and intimacy acquired from conversations with the likes of Diana and Phil; Gilbert has learned from medical books and the crude words of sailors on the sea. Sure, they _know_ a few things but they don’t really _know_. They’re not prepared for the crest of the wave, how Anne’s voice becomes high pitched and thundurus or how Gilbert feels as though there is a coil tightening in his stomach, ready to snap at any moment. 

Anne gets there first. Her back arches off the floor. She shouts, voice catching in the back of her throat as she tenses and shakes under him. He holds her through it, pulling himself out of his daze to press kisses to her cheeks, her nose, the corner of her mouth. She’s anchored herself to him, fingers digging into his shoulder blade and the hair at the base of his neck. 

He’s not far behind her, chasing his only pleasure for only a moment before that coil snaps. And it snaps like never before. Sure, he has known quiet pleasure in the privacy of his room. He has indulged thinking of many things, this very fantasy included, but it has never felt like this before. It has never been so consuming, so _blinding_. 

They lay there for a while, a heap of limbs and breath. Gilbert wants it to last forever. He wants to hold Anne like this until the end of time, to feel the skin of her chest pressed against his and run his fingers through her hair until they’re tangled and stuck. He wants to listen to her breath where his head is resting on her collar, to physically know the way her heart beats in tandem with his. 

_He wants_. 

“We should get cleaned up,” Anne says after a while. Her voice is nothing but a whisper in the quiet. There’s a moment where Gilbert debates ignoring her, but he knows better. If they’re caught, both of their lives will go up in flames. 

He stands first, crossing the room to grab her chemise so she can dress. 

“You don’t have to turn around, you know,” She teases when she sees him facing the wall. “It’s not like I have any modesty left to protect.”

He can’t help but chuckle at being caught. There isn’t any point in arguing with her, so he crosses the room and collects her into his arms, kissing her quickly. “If you’ve proved anything tonight, it’s that your modesty isn’t mine to protect. You are an independent woman, Anne. One who makes her own decisions.”

“And don’t you dare forget it,” She laughs, poking her finger at his chest. 

She retrieves her blouse and begins to strip the lower half of her body down to her drawers so she can begin getting back into her skirts. He watches her, this time without hiding it. Her legs are as creamy white as her chest, skin a perfect porcelain sculpture. One day, he’ll be allowed to run his hands over that expanse of skin. Maybe, if she’ll let him, he’ll be able to repeat that motion with his tongue. He's suddenly hit with the craving to know her taste and files it away for later, making a mental note that as long as they were avoiding the risk of children Anne may be adventurous enough to indulge him. 

_Later, Gilbert. There will be time for that._

He dresses himself while Anne folds the borrowed clothing and places them back on his bed. Awkwardly, she holds the suspenders, obviously unsure of what to do with them. 

It’s the sight of her in her original outfit holding those suspenders that gives him the idea. He takes them from her hand, smirking when she gives him a curious look. It takes a few minutes to figure out how to do it correctly, having never tried to secure suspenders to a skirt before, but once he does he is quite pleased with himself. 

He steps back to admire his work, finding a matching smile on his sweetheart. 

“How do I look?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Gilbert guides her to the mirror, standing behind her as she takes in the newly adapted outfit. He wraps his arms around her middle, holding her close while he says, “I must say, you might just become a trendsetter among your friends, Anne. You look fantastic.”

She pulls away to give a spin, her skirts fanning out around her and brushing against the legs of his pants. “I do, don’t I?” She comes to a stop facing him, pressing up on her toes to give him a kiss. “Thank you for the gift, my love.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Actually, it was both of our pleasures,” She hums, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before escaping from his room to fix them both a late afternoon cup of tea. 

Anne sneaks out of the Blythe-Lacroix house not long after, running through the orchard and taking the back way home so Matthew and Marilla don’t catch wind of where she was. He watches her go, falling more in love with her with every passing second. 

**Author's Note:**

> ANNE IN TROUSERS AND SUSPENDERS KINK GANG - SOUND OFF!!!!
> 
> God, I’m never sure what rating to put for these. I feel like this toes the edge of E rated but it’s not quite there? It’s smut but it’s not like, crazy graphic? Which is my distinction for E vs M. If you disagree and think this needs an E rating, please let me know. I’ll gladly change it over if someone is uncomfortable. 
> 
> I didn’t send Gilbert to Toronto because I didn’t feel like it. Please, pay no attention to the plot holes behind the curtains. Don’t ask questions like: Where is this set? What year is it? What’s the timeline? Who cares. I didn’t, which is why it’s as vague as can possibly be. It’s all about the trousers and suspenders, guys. That’s the REAL plot of this fic. 
> 
> Seriously, though. This fic is yet another self-indulgent Anne in Trousers kink fic but this time with added suspenders. I swear to god if anyone ever drew Anne in suspenders… or, god help me, Gilbert pulling Anne in by her suspenders? I think I would die. 
> 
> I ran a poll on twitter asking people what kind of smut/kinks they’d like to see in Shirbert on a03. I know not everyone is on twitter or feels comfortable posting that on a public platform, so fi you want to drop into the comments here or on anon go for it! I’m not promising I’ll write it but I am super interested to know what people want vs what’s actually being written. And hey, maybe I’ll write some of it? I may or may not already have a couple fics in the works… 
> 
> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://thelazyeye.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thelazyeye1)! And please, if you’re so inclined, drop a comment and let me know what you thought! I literally live for feedback and validation.


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